Bricks in the Wall, Chapter 7: Seduction and Seducation
Seduction
Sylar flopped down on the queen-sized bed dramatically, watching to see if his companion paid him any attention. Peter spared him a short glance, but then his gaze moved on, scanning over the room and the furniture therein. They were exploring apartments again, which had gone really well so far. Sylar was very pleased. He'd made Peter laugh several times and Peter had returned the favor. Neither of them were laugh-a-minute comedians, but they both appreciated humor as much as anyone else. They were loosening up with each other. Peter had told him a few more stories of his EMT experiences and Sylar had even shared a few carefully chosen, somewhat edited tales from his youth.
He was in a good mood at the moment - a little playful even. He smiled to himself. So this is what its like to have a friend? It's nice. I'd rather have some benefits to go with that, though. I wonder if I could get him into bed with me? Hm … maybe I should try that in a literal sense and just see how far I get. He didn't think he'd get very far, but he had the impression that he wouldn't ruin the friendly air between them unless he was deliberately provocative. "Come here," Sylar said, keeping his tone light but direct.
Peter came over to the side of the bed, looking down expectantly. For a man as stubborn as he was, he was also surprisingly cooperative if you managed to avoid hitting any of his buttons. While Sylar had figured out where most of those were that caused negative reactions, he was still in the dark about which levers to pull to get positive ones. It wasn't something Nathan had paid much attention to. The elder Petrelli had had the benefit of a more organic, mutual relationship from the start. Sylar was having to construct such an association from scratch.
Some quick calculations ran through Sylar's head, taking in the glances Peter directed to his body and the distances between them. If he had to guess, he'd say that Peter had just expressed a mild concern that Sylar was going to grab him, along with a little lurking suspicion about why he'd called him over. If he was going to lure Peter onto the mattress with him, he had to address both of those. Sylar rolled over, away from Peter, ending up on his stomach. He left his arms over his head and slid his hands under the pillow directly over his head. Face half pressed into the blanket, he let his voice take on a relaxed, carefree tone as he urged, "Come on." Water's great, come on in!
Peter eyed him, reinforcing the idea that he was suspicious and somewhat reluctant. Not a lot though. Sylar, face down, hands hidden and encumbered by the pillow, looked restful rather than poised. Peter was not a fan of mischief or unexpected actions from Sylar, which was too bad as Peter was prone to both himself. It was unfair, but hardly the only thing Peter could get away with that Sylar couldn't. For example, Peter could be (and occasionally was) flirty with him, but whenever Sylar reciprocated, Peter shut him down or rejected him. It has led Sylar to bypass the flirting and try some straight up propositions, but Peter had either ignored them or outright refused. It had served to squash Sylar's expectations.
Apparently Sylar's act of inoffensiveness won the empath over and he raised his leg to half climb on the bed. He left the other planted on the floor, half on, half off. Oh yeah, almost there. There was no particular reason why Sylar was trying to arrange this except to satisfy his own inward sense of humor. Previously in their relationship here, he'd collected up things like this with the intention of teasing the hell out of Peter with them, taunting and mocking. He'd saved them up and then realized there was no way he could express these things without offending and alienating his only companion. It had been a startling lesson in manners, one that Sylar had puzzled over for days while his nose stopped bleeding and lost the tenderness inflicted by Peter's fist. So - if he wanted people to like him, then he had to stop making fun of them.
Now, he kept his amusement and satisfaction very much to himself most of the time, or when he shared it, he did so in a more considerate manner. How to get him on here the rest of the way? Sylar stretched, deciding to play like a bird faking a broken wing. He could pretend to be harmless if that was what it would take to lure Peter closer. Indeed, the closest he'd been to Peter had been when Sylar was too hurt to fight him off (or try much of anything). The rest of the time, Peter tended to keep his distance. "Mm," Sylar groaned a little. "I am so sore."
"Really?" Peter asked, making a slightly furrowed brow at him. Which made sense - there was no reason for Sylar to be sore. They hadn't been doing any heavy lifting in their explorations, after all.
Sylar changed his story a bit. "I have a knot in my back or something. It's out of joint."
"That sucks," Peter agreed, pulling onto the bed entirely. Inwardly, Sylar crowed (I'm in bed with Peter Petrel-li! I'm in bed with Peter Petrel-li! his mind sing-songed in victory. Mission accomplished. Now what?) Peter asked, "How bad is it?"
The urge to exaggerate his imaginary infirmity was high, but he knew he needed to keep it within reasonable bounds. Otherwise Peter might question why they'd been at this exploration business for hours and only now was his back mentioned. Sylar huffed, "It's been getting worse all day. I think I must have reached for something wrong earlier." He shifted his shoulders back and forth, grimacing.
That was when Peter did something unexpected and far beyond what Sylar had been hoping or planning for. He'd just thought of getting Peter on the bed for the purposes of counting coup, of keeping an internal scorecard on what he could manipulate Peter into. He'd overlooked one of Peter's 'levers' for good behavior: letting Peter caretake on him and treat some medical condition. Peter scooted over across the bed to right next to him. Sylar stiffened in surprise, the tables having turned a little too fast. "It's okay," Peter murmured, and Sylar realized his tension made him look authentic rather than Machiavellian. "Let me see."
Sylar laid perfectly still as Peter put his hand on his back, first over his left (nearer) kidney, then up to between his shoulder blades, which was the limit of what he could reach without moving even closer. His fingers probed down Sylar's spine, feeling out the column of bones. Peter asked, "Where does it hurt?"
Ah, shit, Sylar thought, realizing he needed to make something up. "Just, uh, a little under my shoulder blades." He's touching me! He enjoyed the sensation of Peter's fingers trailing down, apparently gauging the spacing of his vertebrae. What if he doesn't feel anything out of place?
"I can feel how tight your muscles are," Peter noted, reaching the small of his back.
Sylar barely resisted the contrarian's urge to relax, deciding in a split second that he was better off if Peter thought he was tense. How far down is he going to go? But no - Peter stopped at the top of his jeans. For a moment, nothing else happened as Peter pulled his hand back to himself. Sylar slowly let out the breath he'd been holding. "What did you feel?" he asked cautiously.
"Nothing, but that doesn't mean it's not there. I'd probably only be able to tell a severe spinal injury. I'm not a chiropractor. I … I don't know. Some people can tell those microslips by touch, but I never have."
Ah, good for me then. He believes me. "Yeah. Yeah, well, it still hurts," Sylar added, feeling the need to grump a little to more firmly establish his story. Again, though, he was tugging on that 'caregiving' lever for Peter, who put his hand approximately where Sylar had said it hurt.
"Right here?"
"Um, well, kind of around there, yeah," Sylar hedged, wondering if Peter was going to try to give him some manner of adjustment. The anticipation of receiving some sudden shove or thrust by the heel of Peter's hand kept him tense, taking short breaths.
To his renewed surprise, instead Peter splayed his fingertips, put a firm but comfortable degree of pressure behind them, and rubbed the area in a circular motion. "Is this okay?"
YES! "Yeah," Sylar said breathily. He's not just touching me, he's rubbing me! That's … that's like a caress! Oh my God, Peter, I'm going to have back problems forever if this is what it gets me.
Peter shifted again, getting right next to him so much that Sylar could feel the occasional brush from Peter's thigh. Peter bent over him, bringing both hands to bear on either side of his spine, rubbing slowly and firmly. Sylar let his eyes roll up in their sockets at how good that felt. There was nothing wrong with his back and he wouldn't know a good massage from a bad one, but what was so thrilling was that he was getting the attention, the contact and the gentleness at all. Peter had quite a range of physical expression, a lot of it including direct contact with someone. Most of the contact with Sylar had been on the negative end of the spectrum, with blows of a great variety, all painful.
He knew Peter could be kind and gentle, tender even. He'd seen it mostly in Nathan's memories, in the obscene degree to which the two brothers had touched each other. Embraces, touching each other's faces, grasping arms, shoulders, forearms and sometimes the entire torso, squeezing each other, pressing together, whispering in one another's ears while cheek to cheek … Sylar wouldn't have believed there was nothing else going on if he hadn't had every single one of Nathan's memories to be sure. All those casual and a-lot-more-than-casual touches were in his head, but the most he'd personally experienced from Peter on the positive end was some careful and considerate medical care and the occasional touch in passing.
It left Sylar with an ache inside as he missed something he rationally knew he'd never had. He felt so closed off from everything, especially Peter, someone that his mind constantly stumbled over thinking of as more than an enemy and near-stranger. He didn't want to be Nathan. He didn't want Nathan's relationship with Peter. For one thing, he wanted a lot more than that.
He couldn't remember Peter ever giving Nathan a backrub and that … that thought by itself made him so glad he was facedown. It hid any embarrassing physical reactions and the feel of both of Peter's hands fondling his back, manipulating him with strong, secure strokes, was certainly kindling such a reaction. He let his breathing deepen as Peter worked up to his shoulders, kneading and molding his flesh until Sylar couldn't maintain the tension anymore. He let it go and relaxed, sagging against the mattress. Peter worked downward, quiet and thorough.
Oh, God, Peter. Why aren't you married and settled down with someone? Do you have any idea how excellent a catch you are? I'll bet there are people who never do this for a partner. And why are you doing it for me? Because I said my back hurt. That's it. That's all. And because you're so fucking desperate to help people that you'll even help me if you have to. Sylar let out a deep sigh of contentment as Peter silently worked over his lumbar region, helping Sylar out for no apparent reason except that someone had a hurt that a few minutes of his effort might dispel.
He finished, and sat with his nearer (right) hand resting on Sylar's back, just above his beltline. Sylar wasn't about to turn over. He was rock hard. Jesus Christ, if Peter gives me this sort of treatment and doesn't expect a reaction, then he's way more naïve than I think he is. He's naïve, but he's not that that naïve. After a few moments of stillness, Sylar cocked his head and twisted his neck to look back at Peter, who seemed lost in thought, staring off into the distance. Peter's thumb moved slightly, brushing back and forth slowly against Sylar's shirt. It was an absent-minded intimacy, but an intimacy nonetheless and made Sylar wonder where, exactly, he ranked in Peter's head that he'd even unintentionally touch him like that. He stayed still, not wanting to break the spell.
"Is that better?" Peter finally asked, giving him a few 'I'm done' pats before withdrawing his hand.
If I say no, will you do it all over again? "Yes," Sylar said very quietly, thinking that he really needed to give a little more attention to how to get Peter to do what he wanted - like this. Or more than this. What else is it that Peter likes? Gratitude came to mind. "Thank you," he said.
"You're welcome." Again, Peter wasn't moving away. It created a strained feel between them, at least for Sylar, as he tried to figure out what he needed to be doing without being able to see Peter's face, not that it would have been a lot of help. Peter touched him again, lightly now, over his left shoulder blade. Sylar exhaled heavily and didn't restrain the shiver that shook him. "You liked that," Peter said, without a hint of a question.
Uh … how the hell am I supposed to answer that? "Most people like backrubs," Sylar said, giving a non-answer that didn't expose how desperate he was for the contact.
Peter kept moving his hand around, apparently straightening Sylar's shirt, which had been mauled and twisted during the massage. It was a fastidious bit of grooming that seemed really out of place. Sylar fought the urge to look back at the other man and instead lay still, even though he felt about as defenseless in the pose as he'd been initially pretending to be. Peter's motions changed to stroking him again - freaking petting him! - and Peter cleared his throat roughly as though trying to summon up his courage for something.
Whoa. Wait a second. I'm not the only one fucking around here trying to manipulate somebody. Holy fuck. Instantly Sylar was tense all over again. He's making a pass at me. He's fucking making a pass at me! Jesus Christ, what do I do? Just lay here? Tell him he's sexy? No, no. That's always put him off in the past. What got him on the bed was me rolling over like this. He doesn't even have to look at me this way. It's super-nonconfrontational, like he's scared of me. Which wasn't out of character, now that he thought of various other reactions Peter had had (and that Peter had outright told him - Peter didn't tend to be shy about letting people know how he felt … just like now).
Peter said, "Hey … just … um … I know you've made some offers … I'm just … um," he cleared his throat again as Sylar strained to hear every nuance and freely left Peter to stumble through whatever it was he had to say. "Maybe sometime, okay?"
A grin spread across Sylar's face even though Peter was retreating, leaving the bed entirely. Peter hesitated at the bedside as though waiting for an answer. Face beaming, Sylar turned and told him, "Oh yes!"
Looking frightened and put off by the expression, Peter hared off into a different part of the apartment, but he didn't leave. Dumbfounded at his luck and the turn of events, Sylar was glad of the privacy. He couldn't get the huge smile off his face, and he knew the trick to this was to act casual. He had to. And he would. But in the meanwhile, he was going to grin like a maniac.
8D
Seducation
Sylar was a frighteningly good student. At least, that was what Peter had decided was going on, as Sylar seemed to have enrolled in Seducing Peter Petrelli 101 and was acing the class. Currently, he and Sylar were sitting on the couch, each canted towards the other, and Sylar was letting Peter's tongue explore his lips in a gradual progression, having figured out that letting Peter take the lead was best for both of them.
Their first time of making out, Sylar had swiftly become too aggressive. Peter had turned away and shut down. Sylar, hypersensitive especially that first time, backed off immediately. The second time, Peter swore Sylar did it on purpose just to see what the reaction would be. Peter had jerked back, angry, and Sylar had ducked his head apologetically, reaching out to stroke along Peter's arm. When Peter jerked that away, too, Sylar trailed his fingers up and down Peter's thigh and hunched over even more.
It had worked. Peter had calmed down fast, rubbed Sylar's shoulder a bit, ignored him for a while, and then moved things along to a completely different subject. He hadn't missed the little smile Sylar had - though whether it was 'I got away with that', 'I learned something' or 'I just avoided getting punched in the nose' was unclear. Peter was pretty sure it was at least one of those.
Not that he cared much. Right now what he cared about was the exquisitely human taste of Sylar's mouth as Peter sucked Sylar's upper lip between his own and ran his tongue back and forth over it. Sylar positioned himself as well as possible to make it easy - that wasn't lost on Peter. (Good student, paying so much attention to his teacher, Peter mused. A-plus, definitely.) Sylar panted lightly as his wide, dark eyes took in Peter's face so close to his own. Peter watched him back, but he didn't make much in the way of eye contact. He was more focused on what he was doing, anyway.
Peter's tongue probed at the line demarcating lips and inside of mouth, stroking over the smooth but drier lips, wetting them thoroughly and tasting them. Sylar tasted good. It wasn't like any specific food or drink. He tasted clean, but he definitely had a flavor. Gradually, he crossed the line to the slicker membrane within, teasing briefly against the even teeth before coming back to suck on the fleshy lip again. He liked the way Sylar leaned into him and breathed harder at that. Peter delved back inside time after time as Sylar allowed Peter all the time in the world to sample him.
Even though Sylar wasn't aggressing on Peter, it was clear he was really enjoying this. His expression persisted in being one of stunned amazement, like he found it hard to believe this was even happening. His breath came fast; his heart beat quickly and his skin was slightly flushed. Peter adored it, absorbed it, took in that his partner was really thoroughly and deeply engaged, even if he wasn't acting much. One of Sylar's hands was at Peter's waist, but other than that, they hardly touched. Sylar looked like he was the luckiest man in the world and Peter felt so, so appreciated.
He finally finished with his taste test, moving on to a long, involved kiss. He tilted his head to mold his own lips against Sylar's, letting them slide together. Peter felt a quiver inside of himself, loving every moment of this. Sylar was getting it just right - not pushing, but letting Peter get comfortable with him (and more than comfortable). With other partners, Peter expected and wanted more interaction, but Sylar wasn't 'other partners'. They had too much history for Peter to be relaxed with him right away. He needed the chance to work up to whatever it was they were working up to. Hell, just being friendly had taken forever. Intimacy was progressing in stages. Kissing - kissing was good.
Peter loved kissing. As an activity, he was more interested in sitting around making out than discussing whatever, and with Sylar there were so many topics he didn't want to get into. Instead, he wanted what he was getting here: cooperation, affection, attention and appreciation. He liked how Sylar was letting him lead. Later, perhaps, Peter would want more assertiveness, but for now he was still a little too wary for that. He wanted what he was getting.
Peter felt more than heard a stifled moan in the back of Sylar's throat as he worked his mouth, finding new areas to tongue. Sylar's left hand bunched the fabric of Peter's shirt just above the jeans - once, twice and then a third time in suppressed desire. Sylar wanted to be all over him, that was clear. Peter wanted to make Sylar submit entirely to being pleasured and push him right over the edge. He pulled back and waggled his eyebrows at the other man, who raised his slightly in question.
Time for a new lesson. Peter sat up and shifted, straightening and then twisting, bringing his left leg up and over so he straddled Sylar, sitting on his lap. Sylar's eyes widened comically, as though this was something he hadn't contemplated, like it was almost too far. He swallowed nervously. Peter stayed upright, butt on Sylar's knees, a respectable distance between their bodies. With a slight smile on his face, he waited for Sylar to get comfortable with the idea. Sylar's eyes returned to normal and his gaze dropped to Peter's chest, then lower to his legs. He reached out and stroked Peter's thighs, glancing back up. Sylar puckered a little and tilted his head, something he'd done before to say, "Come kiss me," without actually speaking.
Peter accepted the signal, leaning in to take what was offered. Three kisses into it, he brought his hands up the outside of Sylar's arms, over his shoulders, to the man's neck and then his cheeks, caressing and stroking. Sylar's breath came hard for a moment and he shivered, his mouth opening wider. The expression of arousal shot through Peter, electrifying him. He wanted more of that and he wanted it now. He slid in closer, bringing their bodies together. Sylar stiffened again, looking alarmed and so vulnerable. He was 'acting' less and less, Peter could tell. It was hard to keep up a charade when you were groin to groin with someone, as now. In a very obvious way, they were both rather excited about what was going on.
Peter smiled. "It's okay. It's okay. This is all I'll do." Unless you show me you can handle more.
Sylar paused to give Peter an exasperated look and to roll his eyes at being patronized. Peter just grinned and moved his face in close, rubbing the tip of his nose against the side of Sylar's. That seemed to just knock the guy right out. The rolling eyes turned to fluttering lids and Sylar let his head loll back with a deliciously helpless sound. Peter kissed the point of his chin, then dipped his head lower to Sylar's throat. Immediately the other man's hands gripped hard on Peter's shoulders, on the verge of shoving him back. Peter kissed gently - very gently - again, and then again, slowly working his way back up towards the chin. He made a mental note about that area. Sylar relaxed slowly.
Peter returned to Sylar's mouth to provide the deep, thorough plunging that had gotten such a good response earlier. It didn't take long before Sylar started running his hands up and down Peter's back, responding strongly. They kissed the same way for what seemed like minutes, until Peter was light-headed with desire and the urge to thrust into something was getting overwhelming. Peter rocked his hips slightly against the other man, provoking a dazed look as Sylar's fingers began to curl into Peter's shirt. The side of Peter's mouth twitched upwards for a moment, pleased with the acceptance.
Peter's hands strayed from Sylar's face to run through his hair. At that, Sylar began truly struggling, like he was on the verge of losing it. He pulled fitfully at Peter's shirt and kissed back aggressively, devouring Peter's mouth. Peter let him, things having gone far enough that he was comfortable with it now. He let Sylar try to swallow him down as Peter kept prodding at him, trying to push him over that edge. He is so freaking responsive!
Peter pulled back eventually to reassert control. He nipped at Sylar's lips, feeling the man's breath hot against his face, tightening his hands into fists and pulling Sylar's head back so that Peter was in control of how much they kissed. Sylar said something completely inarticulate at that, clenching Peter's shirt. For a moment, it looked like that was all Sylar was going to do, but then he dropped his hands to Peter's ass, where they hovered for a second as though undecided. Peter tugged Sylar's head back and dropped his lips to Sylar's throat. The other man gripped Peter's ass immediately, pressing them together more tightly. Peter rocked harder, taking that as the signal it was - full steam ahead! He kissed and then nibbled up and down Sylar's throat, going gently at first even though his hold on Sylar's hair was firm, allowing no dissent. He ground his hips against him with increasing pressure and energy.
Sylar moaned and seemed torn in what he wanted to do - he struggled briefly as though he wanted to throw Peter off of him, all the while he was actually thrusting back to meet Peter. He made a series of tiny, choked sounds that were plaintive, then shuddered. He jerked spasmodically against Peter as he came, his breath hitching so beautifully. The knowledge that Peter had brought Sylar off just by dry-humping him was exactly what Peter wanted. He reached down with one hand to rub at himself furiously while the other, still fisted in Sylar's hair, brought the man's head back up so Peter could taste him one last time before his own climax.
Peter groaned, feeling the orgasm rush through him, building fast, lighting him up. He shoved his mouth tighter to Sylar's, feeling teeth pressing painfully against his lips. He squeezed himself through the front of his jeans, freezing up as he peaked. He panted, breathing hard against Sylar's cheek. Peter held himself in place, quietly winding down. Sylar pulled his head slightly to the side and Peter untangled his hand from the man's hair, giving him his freedom.
Sylar slowly moved his hands to Peter's head, cradling it and looking up at him like he was worthy of worship. Peter looked back, just inches away, letting himself fall into Sylar's dark, dilated eyes. The other man drew Peter in gently and began to tenderly pepper his face with small kisses and physical endearments. Peter felt himself go to putty inside. He slumped and sagged. Oh yes, Sylar was the best student ever.